


An Honorary Winchester

by The_White_Rabbit42



Series: Out of Grace [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Human Gabriel, Short Reader, Smut, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: It would be great to have an archangel in your back pocket.  Too bad this one’s human and in as much of a bind as you are when you find yourselves smack dab in the middle of a werewolves’ den.





	An Honorary Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @gone-to-fight-the-fairies Supernatural’s Summer of Heroes Challenge. My quote was: Scott Lang: “On my Signal, run like hell.”

 

This was not good.  

 

Your eyes scanned the room through the hidden vantage point within the wall, and they widened as four more figures entered through the main door.

 

This was more than _not good_ .  This wasn’t even bad.  This was straight up _ugly_.  

 

In all your time of hunting, you’d never had the odds stacked so terribly against you.  This particular group of monsters was well-organized, and well-funded enough to have their own bunker-like structure.  They also appeared to be far more well-numbered than anyone originally anticipated.  

 

If you hadn’t slipped down a hill and crash landed through the smallest window in existence, you might not have been so in need of a well-timed rescue.  

 

At least you weren’t alone.  Gabriel had managed to squeeze himself through the frame while Sam and Dean circled back to try and find the main entrance.  These days, however, Heaven’s weapon was looking a bit less terrible and far more soft.  

 

Might have had to do with how many bags of skittles the man ate… or how he was, in fact, an _actual_ man now.  

 

Gabriel didn’t like to talk about how he lost his grace.  All things considered, it wasn’t hard to figure out it likely had something to do with Lucifer.  The last time anyone had seen him as an archangel had been back during the apocalypse, saving the Winchester’s asses.  It might have actually been the last time anyone had seen him, _period_ , before you stumbled upon him hitchhiking his way back to the brothers.

 

You’d never met any of them before that.  Now, you couldn’t get rid of them either.  Except, it seemed, when you actually needed their help.  

 

“You have a plan?”  He murmured.  

 

Well it certainly _wasn’t_ to get screwed.  At least not by the pack of werewolves congregating in the room in front of you.  

 

You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a solution, though the way he was practically on top of you was making it awfully hard to think about anything _other_ than the way his dulcet tone caressed your ear or how his breath was ghosting warmly over you.  

 

It wasn’t his fault.  He was mostly this close to keep from being heard, though it did mean his lips were as close to your ear as they could be without actually touching.  This might have been as close as they’ve been to any part of you other than the back of your hand.  

 

You swallowed, doing your best to also ignore the way his chest was brushing lightly against your shoulder.

  
“Don’t die?” You finally replied.  You practically heard his eye roll through the mounting tension.  

 

“If there’s anyone I’d rather get screwed by the Winchesters’ with, it’s you, but I’d much rather those prepositions be reversed,” he whispered.  

 

“You mean positions?” You questioned absently, doing another head count in hopes the last several had been inaccurately high.  

 

“I meant exactly what I said.”  A smirk sang through his words and when you finally got the punchline, your eyes were the ones rolling heavenward.  

 

You knew he was just trying to keep things light, to keep you both calm, and possibly even distract you a little while he came up with a plan.  You also knew it was all just bravado.  Gabriel had been a regular part of your life for so long enough now that if any part of that statement were true, he would have made a move already, because, unlike you, _he_ was not a coward.  

 

“So… you would rather get screwed _with_ the Winchesters’ by me?” You informed him, tone as dry as your smile.  “Because I want you to know upfront, I have a two dick maximum.”

 

You turned your head to gauge his reaction.  His nose grazed your temple as he let out a short, amused, puff of air through it.  

 

“Ok, maybe not _quite_ what I meant, shortcake,” his voice was a pleasant rumble in the back of his throat, though a single note of exasperation rang softly through his tone.  “Besides, you should know by now I don’t play well with others and I’m not really a fan of sharing.  Candy.  Toys. _Anything_.”

 

You were about to tease him about that one time he had to share a bed with Dean because you and Sam refused to (and because that particular motel carpet was liable to give you some infectious disease just looking at it) when the door across the room opened again.

 

The addition of four more guests had the playful remark dying in your throat.  

  
You turned your attention fully back to the two dozen or so monsters milling about, having tea, eating cookies, chatting about the weather and how many bodies they had to hide this summer or whatever it was that werewolves made small talk about.  

 

The breath he let out was the heaviest sound you ever heard him make, and his hands came down on your shoulders.  You were wearing your favorite jacket, broken in just right.  The leather was old, worn, supple, and well loved, so the fact his fingers were moving over _that_ at the moment didn’t really surprise you.  Neither did the anxious drumming that scurried down the side of your arms, halting just above your elbows.

 

Gabriel liked to touch.  Anything soft, smooth, _furry_.  The easiest way to cheer up the ex-trickster was to plop something cute and fuzzy in front of him (and though he’d never admit it, making surprise trips to pet stores and humane societies was one of your more often used pick me ups for him).  He was particularly fond of things like silk, satin, and velvet, but textures in general seemed to draw him in.  

 

His touch often came when things were idle, when he was bored and in need of something to occupy his attention, or something to keep him grounded as his mind whirred away.  When it didn’t have to do with sensory stimulation, it was tied to his nerves.  It was a tossup as to whether or not it was the second or third one of those driving his need to have his hands on you at the moment.  

 

Likely a little of both.  

 

He guided you back along the passageway, moving you far enough away to be out of their earshot.  He released you, pacing slightly as he continued to think.  His nervous energy was infectious, and you shoved your hands into your pockets, hoping to find something to fiddle with.  You forced yourself to at least act like you were calm, however, and you leaned back against the wall, once again trying to think of a way out of this mess.  

 

“We gotta make a move,” he finally said, breaking the silence as his movements stilled.  Despite his assertion, his gaze remained uncertain, muddying the waters on just how necessary he felt it was.  

 

“We should to wait for Sam and Dean,” you answered.  You were outnumbered twelve to one.  If you had found this place a few days ago, you might have had some hope within the dozen people being kept prisoner not far from where you stood.  Now, however, the majority of them were weak with hunger and thirst, and you couldn’t risk putting them in harm’s way in the condition they were in.  

 

Gabriel stepped closer, placing his hand above your head on the wall as he leaned in toward you.

 

“We’ve _been_ waiting” he reminded emphatically, trying to keep his voice at a low hush. “We wait any longer and our backup is going to need backup before coming in after us.”

 

He was right.  He was also so close you could feel his breath across your skin.  It smelled like citrus and sweetness, and you’d put money on it if you reached into his pockets you’d find a fresh skittles wrapper in there.  

 

You were about to crack a joke about it when the look on his face shifted and he suddenly pinned you beneath a strange stare.  It was packed to the brim in a way you’d never seen before, and there was no way you could hope to untangle all the threads woven through gold within the few short moments you had.

 

“Alright, the plan is, **on my signal, run like hell** ,” he declared, leaving no room for argument.    

 

For a moment, you could only look at him.  Working with and even existing around the former archangel had been a significant learning curve for you.  It had taken you some time to pick up on his subtleties, to see past his facades, and to also calibrate your bullshit detector, which was currently giving you all sorts of off the charts readings.  

 

“Gabriel…”  

 

“The door on the other side of the room is the key,” he spoke over you, pushing things right along.  “You know which one I’m talking about?”

 

You pursed your lips, irritated, but you nodded.  It was one of several leading into it, but likely the only one that led out considering it was where most of the werewolves came through.

 

“Good.  Head straight for it.  Don’t look back,” he finished.

 

“What are you going to do?”  You demanded, suspicious of just how this plan of his was supposed to work.  

 

“The usual.  Bring a little pandemonium and chaos to the party.  Liven things up.  Or _un_ liven them, ideally,” he smirked, though it seemed a little stiff.  He reached into his pocket with his free hand, and what he brought up for your inspection had your eyes widening.

 

“Is that a grenade?”

 

Where the hell had he gotten _that_?

 

He grinned.  “Always wanted to play around with one of these bad boys.  I’ve been guaranteed this one’s filled with silver.  Guess we’ll find out how reputable my man really is.”  

 

He quickly pocketed the weapon before reaching down to his side.   He unclipped his gun, handing it to you with that same intent stare as before.  

 

“Take it,” he ordered.

 

You glanced at the pistol, your stomach sinking as you realized what the _real_ plan was.  

 

Your father always warned you never to find yourself a good man.   _Good men, in this life, Sport, mean you die a widow.  Find yourself one you can trust with most things, but who’s selfish enough not to sacrifice his entire world for yours, unless that’s all that’s left to throw at something._

 

Gabriel, was not a mediocre man.  Now matter how much he liked to drive others insane, or how much of an ass he could be, when it came down to it, he _was_ a good one, and good men could never be trusted _not_ to do something stupid when it came to protecting people they cared about.   

 

“I’m not leaving here without you,” you stated, the finality of that truth clearly intoned.  

 

The thought of making it out without him had you more terrified than not walking out of there at all.  

 

“We don’t know what’s through that door, sweetheart, and you need to clear a path for us pronto if we’re gonna get out of here… but you do whatever it takes to get those two muttonheads in here and get those people out,” he pulled his hand back from the wall, hooking a finger beneath your chin, an unexpected softness overtaking him. “Understood?”

 

Sometimes you wondered if he knew about the torch you carried for him (and just how big it was).  These moments seemed to be happening more and more, popping up in the middle of some impossible or dangerous situation, and always when he needed to convince you to do something that put him at risk.  

 

“I’m not leaving here without you and I mean it,” you reiterated.    

 

“Don’t argue with me, kid.  I am millions of years older than you.”  There’s a wryness to his tone, though the undercurrent of patience suggested he wasn’t entirely joking.  

 

You put your hand on the gun, your fingers brushing over his.  You could feel your heart leaping into your throat at the determination in his gaze, and it made your words come out more as a plea than the directive it was intended to be.  

 

“And I’ve never left anyone behind on a hunt before.  Don’t ask me to do it to you.”    

 

Your tongue darted out across your bottom lip and his eyes immediately dropped down, drawn to the movement.  His head dipped ever so slightly closer, and your heart leapt right back down into your chest, hammering madly.  It looked as if he was about to -- no, he wouldn’t -- but he was _so_ close and --

 

Something changed.  Something had shadows descending swift and harsh across amber and just as quickly as you were convinced he was going to kiss you, he stepped back.  He put his hand over yours, pushing the gun back in your direction.  

 

“Take it.”

 

You swallowed back on your disappointment, but it was too late; your fight had already been extinguished, and you ended up taking the weapon from him.  He fished out another magazine from his pocket, wordlessly handing it to you.  

 

His smile was meant to be reassuring, but you could see the weight clinging to the darks of his eyes, making them appear faded.  “You ready for this?”

 

***

 

The correct answer was _no_ .  No you were _not_ prepared for any of this.  You’d been put into messed up situations before, but this - this was _intense_.  

 

First of all, grenades were loud.   _Really_ loud.  Especially in close quarters.  Your ears not only rang the same way they did when you fired your gun, but there was an additional muffled quality, dampening your hearing further.  

 

Second, they packed a punch.  You weren’t sure where Gabriel intended to hit, but it almost didn’t matter.  The shrapnel had scattered across the entire room, blowing bulbs, shattering glass, taking chunks out of furniture, or spraying them with holes.  

 

Third, when werewolves screamed in agony, they didn’t sound any different than any other person, and when they had pieces taken out of them, they didn’t _look_ any different either.  

 

The entire experience was far more disorienting than you expected and for a moment you could only stare at the terrible scene in front of you.  

 

“Move!”

 

Gabriel’s voice edged into your awareness, but it was the way he dragged you, stumbling through the chaos, that had your mind sharpening again.  You worked on burying the horror, numbing it beneath the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear as members of the pack began to shake free from their own daze.  

 

One of them leapt up, rushing blindly at you, and it took three shots to take him down.  Another soon followed, and the way it closed in faster than you’d ever seen, its sights set on Gabriel, put you almost in a full-blown panic.  You caught it just above the heart, and your father’s voice swam back into your consciousness: _almost only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades.  You miss a shot, Sport, and you potentially miss saving a life._     

 

The monster growled, and for a moment you feared it was going to lunge.  At least, that would have been the smart move.  It raised its arm high, projecting the wild swing it took at Gabriel, giving the ex-trickster and you plenty of notice to anticipate the attack.  He leapt back just as you pulled the trigger, and this time you hit your mark.   

 

The ones that came through the door were just as feral, and you realized it must be the smell driving them mad, an insanity-inducing cocktail comprised of blood, death, fear, anger, grief, and God knew what else.  Thankfully, it seemed like the majority were already in that room with you, because not only had you kicked the hornet’s nest, but hitting them this way had apparently stirred them into such a frenzy that nothing short of hitting their heart was going to slow them down.    

 

Unfortunately, most of the ones capable of attacking were almost recovered enough to start fighting back.

 

“We need to get to the hallway,” you urged.  You were way too exposed in the large area and not only did you need cover, but you needed a way to funnel the enemy so you weren’t dealing with all of them at once.

 

Gabriel continued forward, and you moved with him, your back close to his as you tried to keep them off you.  When there wasn’t anything coming, you went on the offensive, taking out the ones closest to pulling themselves to their feet before they could become a direct threat.  

 

“Clear!” He announced and you glanced back to find he had the door cracked.  He motioned for you to go through and you leveled a look of disbelief before dragging him alongside you.  Unfortunately, there was no way to lock the door behind you, leaving you both vulnerable to far too many wolves still capable of tearing your throat out.  

 

“Let’s just hope this place isn’t a maze,” you muttered before you both sprinted down the hall.  

 

***

 

You weren’t going to make it.  They were everywhere: lurking behind every door you passed, wandering into the hallways you needed to pass through.  Most of them had no idea you were coming, but the moment they laid eyes on you, they were primed to kill on sight.  

 

You needed a way to slow them down.  None of doors had locks that could be utilized without keys, and as more slowly built on your trail, the more you realized this couldn’t end well for  either of you.  

 

If you didn’t find a way to box them in or reach the exit (and the Winchesters), you were going to be in trouble.  You made sure to keep Gabe as close to you as possible, especially when any enemies were nearby, anticipating that he would make take matters into his own hands the first chance he got.  

 

You pushed through another doorway, surprised to find yourself in another large, conference room type area.  Gabriel immediately shut the door behind you, bracing his weight against it.  

 

“Get that chair,” he ordered, pointing to one against the wall.  You grabbed it and, guessing his intent, jammed it beneath the door handle.  Both of you worked on putting what else you could in front of it before quickly working on a second door that looked like it connected to some of the side areas you’d passed.  It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would certainly buy you some time.  

  

A chorus of growls sounded along the hallway you entered from as you rushed into the one you _hoped_ led to the way out.  A thunderous rattling and the sound of wood splintering caught your ears.  You rounded the corner, the sound fading, only to be met with another identical looking hallway.  You finally realized you had no idea just how big this place was or how many more corridors you had to get through before you could even get out.  

 

You needed a new plan, and _fast_.  

 

Hope flared fierce within your chest as the two of you took another turn, and the door at the end of _this_ hall appeared different from the rest.  A large, steel, sliding bar was installed as some sort of deadbolt, which could only mean one thing.

 

Relief flooded your system, overriding some of the adrenaline as you and Gabriel exchanged a look.  He smiled, taking hold of your hand, and for a moment you actually believed that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.  

 

You had always been a sucker for the hope of a happy ending.  

 

The unmistakable echo of footsteps and snarls informed you this end would be bloody and brutal.  

 

Gabriel picked up his pace, practically dragging you and your short legs along as you did your best to keep up with him.  You were only slowing him down.  If he wasn’t so concerned about you, he could have been through that next door and easily increasing the distance between the monsters and himself.  

 

An idea formed in your head and you winced, because he was going to be _so_ pissed at you.  It didn’t matter.  You weren’t going to be what dragged down such a complicated and magnificent being who deserved far more than what the world had ever given him.  

 

He had also been the one who handed _you_ all the guns.

 

You let him break away from you, allowing a little distance to form as you pretended to be winded. He turned slightly, keeping you in his peripheral even as he opened the door and peeked around the edge of it.

 

“It’s clear!  Come on!” He gestured for you to hurry and you waited until he was fully through the threshold before picking up your pace.  It was perfect timing.  As he he kept watch down the hallway, he was too distracted to notice the way you were working toward an all out sprint until you were almost on top of him, and he had just enough time for his brows to hit his hairline before you dropped your shoulder.  You collided with him, sending him sprawling across the floor.  You wasted no time, dropping to your knee and removing a small six-shooter strapped to your ankle for _oh shit_ situations just like this one. You prayed it would be enough and slid it in his direction.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”  He wheezed.  You grimaced, realizing you had knocked the wind out of him.   

 

“Whatever it takes,” you apologized, guilt bleeding through your words.  

 

His eyes went wider than you’d ever seen, and your mouth went dry as you saw the same fear you felt earlier at the thought of leaving him behind.  

 

“Get them in as fast as you can,” you said, proud of the steadiness in your tone, though the reality of what you were about to do was about to come crashing down upon you.  

 

“Wait,” he gasped, hastily pulling himself to his feet as he tried to reason with you  “You don’t need to do anything stupid, short stack.  We’re almost there.”

 

You backed up when you saw the way his body was tensing, as if preparing to throw himself back through that doorway or you over his shoulder.  Even knowing how fast he was, you underestimated how much quicker he could move than you, especially given the right motivation.  You barely made it back around the door in time, and he was so close when you slammed it you might have literally shut it on his face.   

 

A frustrated growl rose from behind it as you tried to keep him from pushing back through.  You fumbled with the deadbolt, struggling to keep your weight braced against it _and_ keep it steady long enough to lock it.  The way he kept throwing himself wildly at it made it impossible for you to get the metal to line up properly.  

 

“Father, dammit, open the door!”  He shouted, a panicked edge entering his tone.  “Don’t do this - don’t you _dare_ do this to me, y/n, _please_.”

 

What started as a command, slowly morphed into a plea, and your resolve almost broke beneath his desperation.  The pack was close to descending upon you, however, reminding you why you needed to do this.  You lowered yourself, pushing your feet against the floor with renewed purpose.  Putting everything you had into it, you shoved back, managing to steady the door long enough for you to jam the bar into place.  

 

“Go!” You shouted when he continued pounding against the door.  The hair on the back of your neck prickled, rising uncomfortably, your signal you were out of time.  Steeling yourself for the oncoming onslaught, you turned, drawing both of your weapons.  You had just swapped out the magazines and settled into your stance when the first one rounded the corner.  

 

As the pack began to flood the hall in front of you, Gabriel’s frantic banging faded beneath the loud _pop_ of your firearms, and you poured all your concentration into making each bullet count before you ran out of them _or_ luck.  

 

***

 

Despite the fact you escaped death’s clutches relatively unharmed and didn’t have to leave anyone behind, you had a feeling you were so, _so_ screwed still.

 

Gabriel hadn’t spoken a word to you since your sincere attempt at saving his life (and the lives of all the captives that had still been waiting in cages to be rescued).  You weren’t sure if he was seething, or just perfectly happy to let Dean have first dibs at a tirade.  If you had to guess, he was _beyond_ the emotional capability of a normal human being when it came to whatever sentiment was lurking in his gaze, if that darkness lining gold was as infinite as it seemed.  

 

He wouldn’t even look at or acknowledge you, his stare fixed somewhere out in the darkness as you headed toward the closest twenty-four hour diner Sam could find.

 

“Are you even listening to me?” Dean demanded.  

 

No, actually, you _weren’t_.

 

You knew Dean cared, and the reason he was thundering his disapproval down upon you was that you had scared the shit out of all of them, which was why you were actively ignoring him.  You weren't the type of person that did well receiving lectures, but you also weren’t the type to hold it against them for being furious you gave them an unconventional stress test on their hearts.  

 

“Dean, just take it easy, alright?” Sam interjected.  

 

Dear, sweet, Sammy.  He had tried to disarm the nuke his brother had become once all the danger had passed and the people had made it safely out.  Not only had he failed, but he had drawn an impressive amount of his brother’s ire for a few minutes and you hadn’t expect him to intervene on your behalf again.  

 

You’d have to remember to pick up his favorite candy or beer when you had a chance.  

 

“Sammy, stay out of this,” Dean warned.  

 

“Look, she gets it.  Only you, me, and Gabriel are allowed to engage in risky heroics,” the younger man sassed back.  

 

Correction: you were going to have to take this man on a vacation weekend for the lip he just gave.  

 

The look on Dean’s face was priceless.  The mixture of shock and utter betrayal had you sniggering quietly to yourself.  

 

“I can’t believe you,” he shook his head in disappointment.  “She could have died --”

 

“But she _didn’t_ .  In fact, her idea likely saved them both _and_ all those people,” Sam tried reasoning.  His brother, however, was beyond hearing it at the moment.

 

“The only reason any of this worked out was because we came along and prevented her from getting ripped to shreds!”  He insisted, his eyes swinging back to you in the mirror.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but you are getting sloppy, _really_ sloppy, and if you can’t get your head in the game, I’m benching you.”

 

His words were like throwing gasoline onto a small, flickering flame.  Everything exploded in a brief, fiery burst as your patience finally wore thin.

 

“Listen here, Winchester, you are _not_ my father, and since I don’t have any lingering daddy issues like _some_ people in this car--” and by some, you meant _all of them_ , “-- I am not in search of one.  My own never got away with telling me I couldn't hunt, and you sure as hell aren’t going to, so you better check whatever part of _your_ issues are causing you to treat me like I’m some god damn child.  We have all taken risks before.  We’ve all thrown ourselves to the wolves to save someone else, so don't lecture me because it was my turn to do it.”

 

“You didn't just throw yourselves to the wolves, you locked yourself in there with them!  A pack of rabid ones, I might add,” Dean snarkily reminded.  “And if we had come in one minute later --”

 

“But.  You.  Didn’t,” you snapped, eyes burning as you met his gaze in the rear-view mirror.  “I _do_ get it.  I almost died, but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

 

Surprise cut through the bulk of his fury just before he turned back to the road.  White-knuckled fingers gripped the steering wheel and you watched the muscle on the side of his jaw go rigid.

 

“Not in this family it doesn’t,” he muttered.    

 

“I’m not a Winchester.”  The words were out of your mouth before you realized what it was you were saying.  A heavy silence fell between you and for the first time, Gabriel’s attention drifted back to what was happening in the vehicle.  

 

You would have thought you had insulted their father… or brought up the uncomfortable fact that their father got yours killed by how thick the tension had become.  

 

“Don’t you pull that crap,” Dean grumbled, obviously wounded by the remark.  “We have been through too much together for you to act like you’re not one of us.”  

 

He shook his head emphatically, as if he couldn’t believe you had the gall to insist you didn’t have a place among them.  That wasn’t what you were saying, but there was no point in telling him that now.  Dean wasn’t likely to hear much of anything until he’d had some time to calm down ( _and_ put something in his stomach).  

 

You were all running on empty, and you hoped stopping for food would help settle most of the discourse on just _how_ stupid you were for wanting to protect your friend.  

 

You rode the rest of the way in silence, which thankfully wasn’t far.  Before long, Sam was guiding Dean off the highway to a small building no bigger than a bus.  There were more cars than you expected at this hour, and Dean was forced to pull around into the shadows of a small parking area behind the building.  Once he found a spot, he shut off the engine, and you honestly couldn’t get out of that car fast enough.  Unfortunately, neither could Dean, and the way he strode around the vehicle toward you with renewed purpose suggested he still had yet to finish with you.  

 

No doubt he was coming to browbeat you properly, face to face.  

 

“Dean --” Sam sighed, his tone saying _enough_ as he moved to interrupt his brother.  Dean just put his hand up, his eyes fixed intently on you as he approached.  

 

“I get why being one of us might not be the most desirable thing, given our family’s histories,” he began, his voice much calmer than before.  “But for the record, you are one of us in every way that matters.”  

 

The earnestness beneath his words caught you off guard.   The dark pit of sentiments leftover from this evening began to churn, and a slow-creeping guilt crawled its way up from within it.  You pursed your lips, trying to force it, and everything else trushing to the surface, back down where you could keep a tight lid on it.   

 

“People come and go in our line of work, but, for whatever reason, you haven’t.  You’ve chosen us as much as we’ve chosen you, and you can’t expect us to be thrilled when we come into a place fully anticipating to find that we’ve lost you, understand?”

 

The problem wasn’t that you hadn’t understood this from the beginning, it was that you didn’t appreciate feeling like you were being spoken down to for doing what you thought was right.  

 

It didn’t matter now.  Everything had worked out.  Everyone seemed to be done yelling at you.  You would all move past this, and by sunup, everything would go back to normal again.  

 

You nodded up at Dean and he smiled.  

 

“Good,” he said, clapping you so heartily on the shoulder your entire body swayed, “Because I’m starving.  Let’s go eat.”

 

He released you, that purpose in his frame now turned elsewhere as he wasted no time heading toward the diner.  

 

Sam saw you hesitate and he lingered, watching you lean against the car, and take a moment to enjoy the crisp, fall air around you.   

 

“You ok?” He asked.  

 

You nodded.  “I just need a minute.”

 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly before trailing after his brother.  

 

You shoved your hands into your pockets, looking up at the night sky.  You turned, your back resting against the cold metal as your eyes drifting over the twinkling lights scattered across the darkness.  You were surprised at how clearly you could see the stars, and as you focused on losing yourself to the infiniteness of the galaxies above you, you felt the guilt and horrors from this evening begin to drift away.

 

It also helped to have your mind wandering back to the last time you’d stopped to admire the heavens.

 

It had been a few months ago, right after you and Gabriel had solved a case involving a Wendigo that had wandered into a national forest, preying on campers.  The two of you had decided to stay a little longer, and the park rangers had been so grateful for your help that they had allowed you to stay, free of charge.  The whole idea had come from a remark Gabe had made about not seeing the allure of “roughing it” in the wilderness.

 

You were only supposed to stay a few days, but those few turned into a few more and before you knew it, an entire week had passed.  It was the best week you’d had since you father had died.  Possibly the best week you’d _ever_ had, and you knew it had less to do with the _what_ or _where_ and far more to do with the _who_.

 

You caught movement out of the corner of your eye and you found the who in question moving around the side of the car.  You hadn’t even realized the former archangel was still out there.  You stood up, about to move toward him when you caught the dark look on his face.

 

“Gabe?”  

 

He pushed you back against the car, his grip tight on your shoulder as he leveled a finger right in your face.

 

“Don't you _ever_ do something like that again, do you understand?!”

 

For a moment you could only blink.  You’d heard Gabriel yell before, mostly at Dean, but he had never raised his voice to you.  He wasn’t shouting now, either, though you wished he would, because whatever _this_ was was far more intense and unsettling than having him unleash on you the way Dean had.   

 

“If those two idiots want to be big, dumb heroes, let them, but you - you are too important to be pulling stunts like that!”  There was so much beneath his tone, so much swirling within gold, that you hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about, only that he believed it.  

 

“Gabriel, I’m - I’m nobody,” you stammered, so confused as to why he would think you were anything special.

 

“You are _everything!_ ” He insisted, though it wasn’t his anger that hit the tipping point.  It was something far more potent as his voice grew strained with the underlying trepidation.  A mist formed over amber, and your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

 

You’d only seen him tear up once.  It was a brief and powerful thing to witness, a mighty archangel on his knees before you, moved beneath the burden of his humanity.  Helplessness was not a concept Gabriel did well with, then or now, and you suddenly realize it was one you inadvertently reintroduced by closing that door on him today.

 

You should have known better.  You were the only one who’d been there with any consistency since his transformation, and being left alone (even though you know the Winchesters would continue to look after him) must have been a terrifying prospect for him.

 

“I’m sorry…”  You took the hand still pointing at you into your own, folding your fingers around his until they finally relax within your grip.  

 

His eyes closed a moment and he inhaled slowly.  He took his time breathing back out, and when he looked back at you, everything had changed.  The chaos settled to an absolute certainty, one you’d only ever seen from beings with lifespans far greater than yours. It was a reminder of how much more he used to be, and the vulnerability and genuine emotion beneath his words also showed you how much more he was now.

 

“I can't do this without you,” he confessed, and for a brief moment he looked utterly lost.

 

You swallowed.  It took a lot for him to admit his weaknesses (or as most people called them, _feelings),_ but this was more than that.  This was huge for him, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was something more hanging in the balance, something more than just what he had told you.

 

You took a moment, weighing your words carefully.  Gabriel rarely put himself out there like this, and the last thing you wanted was to give the wrong response and discourage him from ever doing so again.

 

 _Sometimes the simplest and safest thing you can offer someone is the truth._ Your father’s voice sounded in the back of your mind.  It was comforting to have his advice so ingrained in you that he was still able to provide it during times like this.  

 

“Why do you think I pushed you through that door?”  You asked, your voice timid as you stepped out on that shaky limb beside him.  

 

He just studied you, his gaze hard and appraising.  He almost looked like he didn’t trust you, but you had never given him a reason to doubt what you said... had you?

 

“I’ve always hunted alone,” you explained, a nervous thrum flooding your veins.  “As soon as I was old enough to, anyway.  My father thought it was for the best.  He always told me when you hunt with someone you care about, you make more mistakes, and you take different risks.”  

 

Your teeth worried briefly over your bottom lip.  You’d never shared this with anyone before.  You’d never had anyone _to_ share it with.  It had always been about keeping people at arm's length, especially after your father’s death.  

 

Then along came Gabriel, who had you breaking every rule you and your father had ever laid out.  

 

“He was right.  I wouldn’t have barred that door for just anyone… but I’ve also come to realize, he was wrong, about doing this all alone.  I can’t do this without you either.”  You gave him a shy smile, hoping that this would settle the storm rumbling within honeyed hues.  Everything only grew fiercer, however, and you weren’t certain anything you said had actually helped rather than somehow making a mess of things.  

 

Your apology sat on the tip of your tongue when the hand at your shoulder slid up the back of your neck.  You went completely still, your mind reeling, and the way he regarded you was as if this were a test.  His eyes watched your every movement as his thumb began to trace along the fine hairs at the edge of your hairline.  Goosebumps raced out from beneath his touch, compounded by ripples of excitement as you watched his gaze trail down to your lips.   

 

“I want to kiss you.” His voice was rough with emotion and you blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly.  The way he cupped your face with his other hand, however, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone, suggested you were not suffering from the auditory hallucinations you suspected.  

 

The look in his eyes grew as the seconds passed, but he continued to wait, and you realized despite his statement, there was a clear question being posed.  You tentatively reached up, running your fingers along the beginnings of a beard growing out along his cheeks.

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, your fingers daring as they drifted into the mess of curls behind his head.  He waited for you to pull him toward you before he did the same to you, and the moment your mouth touched his, a thrilling shock wave erupted straight down the center of you.  

 

There was a hesitance beneath both your lips, as if neither one of you could believe this was really happening.  Perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps you were still back in the werewolf den, bleeding out, and to block out the horror of your final moments, your brain had conjured your greatest desire instead.

 

If this was how you went, you could live with that… or die with it, as the case might have actually been.

 

You would likely die either way, with the way your pulse took off when he nudged you back against the car.  His fingers weaved through the back of your hair, tilting your head back just as he grew emboldened enough to take your lower lip between teeth, nibbling and drawing out a pleased sigh from somewhere deep inside you.  His tongue swept out, stealing a taste of you before his mouth became firmer, ravenous to the point you questioned just how long it had been since he’d done this with anyone.    

 

His hands joined his hungry exploration, slipping beneath your shirt in search of skin.  He ghosted along your stomach before doing a wide arc around your side and down your lower back.  His fingers dipped beneath the band of your jeans, brushing along the edge of your underwear as he circled back toward the front of you.  

 

You knew exactly where this was headed, and you had a feeling if you didn't refocus him soon, he was going to take you right there against the side of car.  

 

The thought only had you even dizzier with desire.  

 

You reached beside you, fumbling for the handle.  When you finally got a grip on it, you nudged him forward with your hips.  He took the hint, but not before he grabbed the loopholes of your pants, jerking you flush against him.  You gasped as his erection dug into the front of you, and you managed to guide him sideways enough to swing the door open behind you.  You grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him with you through the doorway.  Despite Dean’s voice niggling at the back of your mind ( _watch the shoes on the upholstery!),_ you dropped down onto the seat, footwear and all, dragging yourself back by the elbows as Gabe climbed in over you.  

 

He paused long enough to shut the door behind him, and gold glinted in a way you’d never seen before.  That was when the the archangel in him emerged, coming out in the sinuous, graceful way he crawled up the length of you.  The human in him, however, was what had him pressing his mouth back to yours again in haste, his tongue probing for entrance as he slipped his knee between your thighs.  

 

You opened both lips and legs for him, a rush of heat and electricity enveloping you when he nestled against your mound and his tongue slide over yours.  Your moan was echoed from him as he rocked his hips against you.  He was already so hard, just as you were certain you were already soaked, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.  

 

When his hand glided up to your breast, fixing that transgression, you almost swore he read your mind, human or not.  

 

You shifted out of your jacket, removing one of several hindrances as he continued mapping your body.  You decided it was time to get to know his, your hands diving beneath his shirt before your palms skimmed the soft contour of his stomach.  Three years ago, you imagined what you were touching was the rock-hard, washboard example of perfection.  

 

You found this version of him far more attractive.  

 

Your fingers wandered restlessly, trying to explore, but the fire he expertly stoked made you feel as if you couldn’t get enough of him fast enough.  Your hands reached down the back of him, cupping that delicious ass you’d spent far too much time admiring, before giving it a firm squeeze.  You followed with a sensual roll of your hips, enjoying the currents of desire that sparked upon hearing the way his breath hitched in response.  

 

He broke away from your mouth, lips blazing across your jaw and down the side of your neck.  Every lick, every suck, every bite had a purpose, and with every mark he left behind, he was claiming you inch by inch.  It drove you wild, feeling the insatiable need beneath his touch, feeling his own want overflowing onto you along with the heat of his body.  

 

It was too much and, yet, not nearly enough.  You became acutely aware of just how hot it was, how stifling it felt beneath all your clothing with him pressed against you.  It was an issue that needed fixing.   _Now_.  

 

You tugged open the front of your pants, kicking off your shoes, and the moment they hit the floor, he was up on his knees.  His fingers curled beneath denim and cotton, and with one swift yank, he had your pants _and_ panties down to your ankles.  One more tug had them free, where they went sailing over his shoulder against the window.  

 

His gaze roamed up the length of you, darkening with desire.  “I want to see you.   _All_ of you.”  

 

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny him what he asked for, not when he looked at you in a way no other man ever had.  It was like you were the only thing that existed, like seeing you laid bare before him was what he needed, more than the air in his lungs, more than for his heart to keep beating.  More than anything, he just needed _you_ , and the warmth that rushed into your cheeks was equal parts excitement and shyness.  

 

You nervously pulled your shirt over your head, your eyes dropping away from his uncertainly.  It had never mattered before what men thought about your body.  Most of them were drunk enough to not care about the scars, scrapes, and bruises that came from hunts, but Gabriel was different.  How many bodies had he seen in his lifetime?  How many examples of perfection were already seared into his mind?  

 

By the time you were out of your bra, the silence was more deafening than your pulse pounding in your ears.

 

He wasn’t just quiet.  He was _too_ quiet, and when you chanced a glance back up at him, you saw why.  Everything was different.  The carnal heat had been extinguished, leaving a vacuum of _something_ in its wake.  His face was completely unreadable as his eyes moved down the front of you, his throat bobbing once, twice, and when he finally completed his appraisal, he looked almost astonished.

 

“You are so beautiful,” he rasped, breathless as he reverently ran his hands along the back of your calves.  A deep flush cascaded down from your cheeks, flooding your chest and running straight down the length of you.  His palms smoothed up around the side of your thighs, and when they rose above the swell of your hips he dropped down onto his elbows, caging your lower body in place.  He brought his mouth down to your hipbone, kissing and nipping his way across the sensitive band of skin beneath your stomach as he made his way toward the other side.  

 

Your body squirmed beneath his attention as he diverted his course up towards your navel.  You loved not only what he was doing to you, but how he looked as he did it.  The way tousled, golden strands fell down across his face.  The way amber turned absolutely molten whenever it flicked up to watch your own reactions.  The way his lip would curl ever so slightly when he drew a particularly satisfying sound from you.  Everything about him was intoxicating, ensnaring your senses and drawing you further beneath dark and decadent waves that lapped persistently at your core.  

 

There was no way you were going to hold out much longer.  

 

It took incredible restraint on your part not to divest him of his remaining clothing; even more to refrain from climbing into his lap to ride him in a way he'd never experienced before.

 

The inner edge of your resolve crumbled, and you grabbed his hand, cupping it over your breast.  He groaned, his mouth stuttering as he brought his other hand up and brushed his thumbs across your aching peaks.  The breathy moan that escaped your lips was pure satisfaction, and you arched into his touch, your body begging for more.  He languidly circled the taut nubs before his mouth came up and latched onto one, lavishing you until he had you mewling beneath his ministrations.

 

A sense of urgency built beneath his movements, matching the flames of your desire that were quickly turning into an uncontrollable wildfire.  The slightest touch had pleasure singing across your nerve-endings, and you couldn’t recall anyone ever making you feel this way.  

 

The fingers from his free hand lightly dragged along your inner thigh.  The sensation suddenly vanished, only to reappear along your folds.  Your hips jerked as a solitary fingertip traced lightly down the front of them.  You whimpered when he curled the tip inward, drawing it up along your slit until he found your entrance.  

 

“Oh, _father_ ,” he groaned, and you were right there with him as he sank his finger into you.  “You’re so wet already.”

 

Your head dropped back, your eyes sliding shut as you focused on the abundance of sensations he was creating.  The way he just held his finger there a moment was torturous, and just when you were worried that devious side of him was going to make an appearance, he withdrew, easing a second one inside of you.  The ensuing stretch your walls gave had your hips lifting straight off the seat, taking him deeper within you.  

 

You let out a half-groan, half-growl, and you were as gratified by the addition as you were dissatisfied when everything suddenly came to a halt.  When you glanced up at him to see what happened, you found him with his eyes shut, looking deep in concentration as the tip of his nose came to rest in the valley between your breasts.  You couldn’t help but wonder what it was he was savoring at that moment.  Was it the fact you were already soaked?  Was it the heat of your core that captivated him or was it simply the snug way you gripped around his fingers?  

 

“I want to be inside you,” he pleaded and when his eyes reopened, liquid honey had all but been swallowed by pools of wanton lust that had his pupils blown wide.  His mouth was hard and hungry as it seared its way back up to your neck where he sucked greedily against your collarbone.  You pulled a breath in through your teeth, feeling a mark form just as he began to scissor in and out of you.  Your rocked your hips against his hand, urging him on.   

 

“ _Please_ ,” he beseeched.

 

“God, _yes_ ,” you sighed.  “I need--” you cried out as he curled his fingers upward, hitting that delicious spot inside you just right.  “--you _now_.”

 

He withdrew both hands from your body, and you whined, aching at the sudden loss of him.  His shoes bounced off the door as he frantically kicked them off, but that was the most he removed, unable to wait another second before he was in you.  He barely had his pants undone when he reached within his boxers, pulling himself out, aligning the tip, and pushing into you all in one swift movement.  

 

Your groan melded with his, a duet of sinful satisfaction singing through the vehicle.  The way you stretched around him was glorious, your entire body tingling with anticipation.  He drew back a few inches, easing into you even further and the world began to melt away around the edges at how amazingly full you felt with him inside you.  

 

“Oh… _fuck_ ,” he grunted, jaw clenched tight and his fingers dug uncomfortably into your waist.  

 

“Gabriel,” you began when he didn’t move; his head drifted up, eyes locking with yours.  “I want you to fuck me.”

 

There was as much dryness as impatience in your tone. Technically, he _had_ only asked about being inside of you.  

 

“As you wish, sugar,” his voice was low, husky, and filled with the same naked desire that glowed within gold as he flashed you a devastating smile.  He pulled back out of you, dragging his tip along your walls, almost withdrawing completely before rolling his hips back into you.  He repeated the languid movements as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the top of your breasts, teasing at your peaks as he gave you some time to adjust to his size.  His teeth flashed out, gently scraping along your nipple just before he released it, only to snap himself back against you.  

 

You yelped, caught off guard by the hard, sudden thrust.  His eyes were immediately on you, concern breaking through the heated haze of his stare.  You pushed his pants down to his knees, digging your fingers into his ass.  This was one part of him that seemed to always stay firm, mostly thanks to all the running around he did on cases since he hated staying idle for very long.  

 

“Again,” you urged, nipping hungrily along his jaw, and though the noise you made when he did was sharp, there was no doubt about whether it was pleasure or pain.  “Faster.”

 

His gaze never left yours as he followed your directive, increasing his pace until he was pounding away at you properly.  

 

“Oh fu-uck, _Gabe_ ,” you panted, raising your hips to meet every one of his thrusts.   He grabbed your knee, settling your thigh up against his waist.  You eagerly raised the other, locking your legs behind him.

 

“Father, you feel amazing, shortcake.  So hot.  So _tight_ ,” he purred.  “This is - I’ve never - I want to fuck you in every position imaginable and then when we’re finished, I want to come up with ones that have never been done before.”

 

The more he talked, the more you unconsciously clenched around him.  He began to unravel beneath the input of his senses, and the throaty quality that emerged in his voice was hotter than anything you’d ever heard before.  The hunger beneath his words only added to the throbbing ache building within your stomach and you were already so close to coming completely undone.  

 

His hands slipped beneath your thighs, reaching up to generously cup your backside before lifting it off the seat.  He pushed into you again, testing the new angle and depth.  You loved the way his eyes fluttered as he went as far as this position would let him.  Wanting more for him, for both of you, you arched your back, lifting further off the seat and settling your hands beneath you to help hold yourself steady.  You dug your heels into his thighs, drawing him in as far as you could, relishing the low moan you received as you tightened around him again.

 

He moved once more, but this position didn’t allow him to snap his hips as far back as he could before.  This one kept him closer, forcing him to make shallower thrusts that had him repeatedly dragging across your g-spot before burying deep within you once again.  You weren’t sure at what point you lost the ability for language, but the profanity tumbling from your mouth turned to incoherent mewls and you bit down on your lip as he sent you over the edge harder and faster than you ever had before.    

 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he groaned, your walls shuddering around him, drawing him so close to his own brink that his pace faltered in an attempt to keep from careening right over it.  He slowed everything down, taking time to nibble his way along one side of your neck before turning his attention to the other.  

 

“Sweetheart, I want to come inside you.”

 

You’d never let anyone do that before.  Your life had been a combination of semi-dating attempts with hunters (which _never_ ended well) and one night stands.  You’d never trusted anyone enough _not_ to make them wear a condom, let alone do what he was asking.     

 

“I don’t think I’ve wanted anything so badly,” he murmured, finding his way back to your lips where his kisses turned tender.  He brought his hand up to your cheek, and the affection beneath his touch made you realize how much you wanted it, too.

 

“Then come for me,” you told him, another rule shattering beneath his influence.   

 

It was all he needed to hear.  His hips began to move again, thrusting into you faster and faster until they begin to stutter.  You felt him thickening, and a deep growl erupted from deep within him as he began to pulsate.  He slammed into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled his seed inside of you.   

 

He slumped forward, his head resting on your chest and you both need a moment to catch your breath.  Your hand slipped through soft strands, idly stroking through the soft mess of curls at the back of his neck.  He made a satisfied sound, and the vibrations in his chest hummed lightly against your skin.  

 

“This isn’t how I wanted our first time to be,” he apologized, breaking the silence.   

 

The fact he’d put thought into your first time had your heart soaring, as did the implication that there were going to be many more times to follow.  

 

His body tensed and his head suddenly popped up as he realized what he’d just admitted.  “I mean… that’s if… I didn’t even ask…”

 

The way he fumbled over his thoughts made you wonder how much the human condition really interfered with the eloquence you knew he had to possess after billions of years of existing.

 

“Hey,” you interrupted, throwing him a lifeline.  “You’re going to fuck me in every known position, remember?”

 

He let out a breath of a laugh, a bashful smile drawing out the dimples along his cheeks.  “If that’s what you want.  I’d certainly like the chance to do this again, properly.”

 

He looked a little sheepish, though it was hard to tell how much of the color in his cheeks was from this conversation and how much was just residual afterglow.  

 

“I believe you did just fine putting what you needed where,” you teased.  The truth was, he’d done more than fine.  It had probably been one of the best sexual experiences of your life, because you actually had feelings for him.  Unfortunately, one of them happened to be you feeling _vulnerable_ and you found it hard to admit just how deep in this you already were.

 

“Shortcake, if you’re not screaming my name, I’m not doing it right,” the wryness beneath his words became overshadowed by his lingering disappointment in himself.

 

You let out a silent sigh, and the fingers in his hair unconsciously stroked a little more lovingly.  You didn’t know how to convince him he was wrong.  Whenever you couldn’t change his mind, you tended to distract him until another opportunity presented itself for you to be heard.  

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever screamed anyone’s name before,” you mused, waving that fact in his face much like a matador would wave a red flag.  

 

His smile stretched into a full, cat-like grin as he took the bait.  “Oh, sweetheart, we are going to have to change that.”

 

 _Challenge accepted_ his gaze said, and the wicked promise that gleamed back at you had heat stirring beneath the surface once more.  As much as you wanted a taste of what he had in mind, a car door slammed across the lot, reminding you of just where you were and who exactly would be coming for you if you didn’t make an appearance inside soon.  

 

“I look forward to you trying.”  You gave him a playful smile, followed by a slow, sweet kiss.  

 

“I suppose that’s my cue,” he mumbled against your lips, stealing a few more kisses before drawing away.  He eased out of you before moving back across the seat to give you room to sit up.  He took a moment to pull his pants up and secure them before helping you gather your clothing.  

 

You murmured your thanks as he handed you a pile of denim.  It took you a minute to find your underwear in it, and the silence that stretched on between you started to turn awkward.

 

“Guess this makes me an honorary Winchester,” you began, filling it with the first thought that came to your mind.

 

“Oh?” He asked idly, as he bent over grab his shoes.   

 

“I’ve slept with an archangel in the backseat of Baby right after making terribly heroic and terribly stupid decisions.  I’d say that pretty much qualifies me,” you explained dryly, hoping to keep things light.

 

“Former archangel,” he reminded, a bitter note beneath his words.  “But yeah.  That about meets the criteria.”  

 

“You’ll always be an archangel, Gabe,” you informed him and his posture went a little more rigid as he tried to jam his foot into his shoe.  “It’s not the measure of your strength that determines that, or even the status of your being.  You’re not any less of something just because you don’t have your grace.  You’re still _you_ , and part of that will always be absolute.”  

 

He looked up at you, and while the heaviness was still there, there was also an appreciation that relieved some of the weight he carried.  “That’s some pretty deep insight you just threw at me, kid.  You sure _you_ don’t have some infiniteness inside you?”

 

“I believe I just did,” you quipped with an unabashed grin.  

 

Pride tugged at his lips in a way that brightened his features and breathed an air of confidence into him you’d never seen before.  You couldn’t help but wonder if this was who he truly was, minus the burden of humanity.  If so, he must have been quite the sight.

 

It took you a few more minutes to put yourself back to rights.  Gabe waited patiently for you to finish, a small smile playing at his lips as he watched you try to tame the mess your hair had become by jamming it back into a ponytail.  You managed to win that fight, though only marginally, and his hand was resting on the door handle by the time you slipped back into your jacket.  

 

“You know, I really did enjoy this,” you reassured, placing a kiss on his cheek.  “Besides, you know if we took any longer, Dean would have just come along and --”

 

A sudden, sharp rapping on top of the roof had you both startled.  As you shot toward the opposite side of the car it was suddenly like you were sixteen all over again, getting caught in the back of Johnny Moretti’s Hurst Cutlass.  

 

“You both better be fully clothed in there because if I open this door and see something I don’t wanna see, someone’s getting shot,” Dean warned.  

 

Correction, this was _exactly_ like that time your father caught you in the back Johnny's vehicle.

 

Gabriel’s brows both raised high and he gave you a look that suggested he really was questioning if there wasn’t some divinity in you after all.  

 

“Wait in here,” you whispered before opening your door.  Your hand reached up to grab the frame, and you simultaneously hoisted yourself up as you stepped out, your head popping over the top of the car to arch a brow at your friend.  

 

“What is taking you two so long?” Dean demanded, his eyes appraising and suspicious as they undoubtedly took note of your flushed features.  

 

“You’re not the only one who thinks I’m an idiot,” you informed him, latching on to the only explanation you could come up with for your lingering blush and your absence.  “Would you rather we hashed it out in there or out here?”

 

“Neither,” he said after a few moments.  “I’d rather you get your asses inside and order so that we can leave sometime before sunup.”  He jerked his hand back in the direction of the building impatiently.  “You have five minutes to get in there or we’re paying the bill and leaving.”

 

Dean turned on his heel, striding back back toward the diner without giving you the opportunity to say another word.  

 

You rolled your eyes and shut your door, your stomach, more than Dean’s attitude, urging you to do as you were told.  You made your way around the back of the vehicle just as Gabriel was getting out.  

 

“Everything alright?” He asked, moving to your side.     

 

All things considered, you would have to say that things were pretty damn good and the only reason they weren’t excellent was due to the fact you really did need to eat something.  

 

“Next time, you should just bend me over the hood.  Especially if Dean’s been an ass about something,” you suggested, and you were rewarded with a smirk.

 

“Don't tempt me, sweetheart,” he warned, his hand sliding beneath your jacket to play with the soft material of your shirt as you both made your way toward the building.  

  
  
  
  
  
  



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